


Gunpowder Kiss

by Rhiannon_A_Christy



Series: Leather And Lace [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Western, Bad ass Darcy, F/M, SHIP DARCY LEWIS WITH ALL THE THINGS, Sheriff Phil Coulson, agenttaser, not Grant Ward friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon_A_Christy/pseuds/Rhiannon_A_Christy
Summary: Darcy Lewis watched as her father was murdered and her home burned to the ground. Now she is determined that the men that had done it would be served justice. Even if she had to do it herself.





	Gunpowder Kiss

  The flickering of fire reflected in the eyes of a young girl. Her jaw set tight as she watched her home go up in flames. The men that had done this were dancing wildly around the house, hooting and hollering about their victory. Tears fell from her eyes, but she refused to turn away.

 

  Behind her she could hear her younger sisters trying to muffle their cries. Pa was still in the house, lying face down in a puddle of his own blood. She had seen the coward that had shot him in the back, his black eyes had been wild with bloodlust. The only thing in this terrible night that she was thankful for was the fact that her sisters had been spared seeing their Pa die.

 

  A slender hand clasped tightly to hers, and even over the smell of burning wood she could make out the comforting scent of her older sister. She held a bit tighter to that hand. It had been hard after their Ma died, but they still had Pa and Uncle Clint to care for them. But Pa was dead now, and they hadn’t seen Uncle Clint in months. It would be up to the two of them to protect their family.

 

  Her sharp young eyes looked over the face of every man that had wronged them. If there was any justice in the world they would all pay for their sins that night, and Darcy Lewis had every intention of making sure that justice would be served.

 

* * *

 

 

 

  Darcy pulled her hat lower over her face, ignoring the looks from everyone in the saloon. Vision Valley was a small settlement, and she was sure they had never seen the likes of her. Most of the women in Vision were ladies; dresses, curls, and hats. She would bet all her money that they never missed a day in church, or ever touched a gun. So, it didn’t surprise her that she garnered the stares she did dressed as a man.

 

  Dresses were all well and fine, but she left those mostly for her sister. Jane was the gentler of the two of them. That was why she left the details of what she did for a living away from Jane. Though she was sure her sister’s husband knew. Thor was a massive man; he had been a US Marshal until he had met Jane. Love and fear of leaving behind a family made him into a farmer. She didn’t blame him, he was a good man. Jane had met him when they were still pretty young, and Thor had taken it upon himself to protect not just her, but also her three sisters.

 

  Darcy called the man her brother, and for a time she thought that bond would be strengthened. She had been young and stupid, falling for his brother as she had. But neither of them were made for marriage, and had proved toxic to each other. She still saw him, but one night in his bed was enough for her.

 

  A glint of light sparkled off her ale, catching Darcy’s eye. Without a word, she stood and tossed a few coins onto the table. She kept her eyes straight ahead, though every movement made around her was not lost on her. She had learned long ago that she had to watch her own back.

 

  Her gait was calm as she walked across the road to the doors of The Red Room. A month ago, she had been tipped off about the brothel and one of its regulars. She had ridden into town with a simple plan in mind; to avenge her Pa.

 

  It had been years since that night, and in that time, she had rid the world of five of the men that murdered him. After this there would be one left.

 

  No one looked up when she entered the brothel. The men thought she had come for service, and the whores, well more than just their bodies could be bought for a few coins. The place smelled like smoke, sweat and sex, and it turned her stomach. The sooner she killed the bastard, the sooner she could get the hell out of Vision.

 

  The stairs creaked as she alighted them, but no one paid her any mind. This wouldn’t be the first blood spilled in the Red Room, and she doubted it would be the last. She stopped just outside the door she had been informed contained her man. Her gun hand flexed, the bones in her fingers cracking. She took a deep breath and slid the door open. The tap of her boot on the doorframe alerted the woman in the bed, and she quickly jumped off and across the room. The man didn’t even get the chance to speak before Darcy pulled her gun and placed a bullet between his bloodshot eyes.

 

  The body fell back against the bed, making the springs squeak. Darcy took a moment to take in the sight of the man. He was sprawled across the mattress, his body naked and covered in dirt and sweat. She laughed, the bastard still had his fucking boots on.

 

  Darcy pulled a few coins from the pocket of her vest and tossed it to the woman across the room.

 

  “You should at least get paid extra for actually being brave enough to touch that animal.” She holstered her gun, turned and left.

 

  One man left, one and her job would finally be over. And she knew exactly where he was.

 

* * *

 

 

  Phil leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the man behind the bars. Grant Ward, known cattle rustler, bank robber, and murderer. The man had come into his life a couple of years ago with an innocent smile and a different name. He had integrated himself into his family; became his friend and stole his daughter’s heart. He probably would have been none the wiser to the man’s true identity if it hadn’t been for that storm.

 

  Phil’s home was located a ways from the town; a large ranch that he had dreams of running with his wife before reality tore that away. After his wife’s death he had taken the job of sheriff, traveling back and forth between the ranch and jailhouse every day. Normally he would set out, making it home in time to devour the hot meal Daisy prepared. But there had been a storm that night, and he hadn’t even made it to the edge of town when he realized it would be too dangerous to continue. He had hightailed it back to the jailhouse with plans to spend the night in the cell. Only when he opened the door it was too find the man he thought of as a son rifling through his papers. It hadn’t taken long after that for the truth to come out.

 

  Now, Ward sat in his jail awaiting the circuit judge to make his visit. Phil had no doubt that the trial would end in a hanging, Ward was wanted for the death of some pretty important people back east. Still, it pained him to see the man behind bars.

 

  Rain once again pelted against the side of the jail, reminding Phil of the night it all went to hell. He sighed, but continued the staring contest between his prisoner.

 

  When the door opened behind him he had expected to hear Daisy’s soft voice. She would come sometimes to bring him dinner, and to remind herself of the hatred she now had for Ward. No voice was forth coming, no clang of his tin plate. Only steady breathing and the wide eyes of Grant Ward.

 

  Phil turned in time to see the visitor pull a gun. He didn’t take the time to think, just grabbed his rifle from beside him and took aim.

 

  “I’m surprised you’re willing to protect this animal. You know he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you or your daughter?”

 

  Phil’s aim faltered for a moment, he hadn’t been expecting the gentle lilt of a woman’s voice. In a manner of seconds he catalogued every detail he could. Short frame, curves hidden behind the heavy draping of leather, a mess of dark hair shoved haphazardly under her hat, and a set of lips too full to be any man’s shadowed by the wide brim.

 

  “All men deserve the proper due justice, no matter how evil.” Phil raised the barrel into place again. This woman was no lady playing dress up; she held her gun with practice hands. He would no doubt bet she had more than one kill under her belt.

 

  “You speak of justice? Is it justice for an innocent man to die just because he refused to sell his land? Is it justice when four young girls are thrust out in the world after watching their home burn?” The woman walked closer, her boots leaving dark, wet prints along the floor. “Is it justice when the men who did this were thanked a year later by the town’s sheriff for restoring the very land they burned?”

 

  Phil could hear the anger and pain in the woman’s voice, and for a moment he thought about standing down. Just a moment.

 

  The sound of movement behind him brought his attention to the fact that Ward had stood.

 

  “I was only a boy back then, Ma’am. I beg you for your mercy.” Ward’s fingers wrapped around the bars of the jail, his head tilted slightly.

 

  His voice was off, lighter than Phil had ever heard it. He looked around and saw it in the other man’s eyes. A twisted hope, the understanding that he wouldn’t die. Not at this woman’s hands and not by Phil’s either. It sickened him.

 

  “A boy that gloried in his first kill. I watched you that day, how your eyes sparkled when your shot made its target.” The woman never dropped her gun, never weakened her stance.

 

  “And how do you feel when you kill? It’s glorious, isn’t it?” Ward pressed his face against the bar, his unnerving smile twisting his features.

 

  “I take no glory in the death of men… animals on the other hand.”

 

  Phil had no time to stop her, his attention more on Ward. Before anything more could be said, the woman shot off her gun, the bullet planting itself directly between the eyes. A kill shot, fast and messy.

 

  She took a few steps closer, set her gun on the table and removed her hat. Her tangled hair fell past her hips, a half-attempted braid could be seen holding it together. Her eyes lifted to his, some unnamed emotion making them shine brightly in the dim room. With a small smile she lifted her hands before her, palms down.  

 

  “Do with me as you see fit. My job is done.”

 

  Phil stepped up to her, his hands grasping hers. He knew the best course of action; the proper course was to place her in the cell where Ward’s dead body lay. She had killed, takin the law into her own hands and executed a man.

 

  He placed her hands on top of one another, gave them a small pat and stood back.

 

  “There is a wagon out back. Hitch up the horse and pull it around to the side of the jail. There is a ravine halfway to my ranch, no one goes there much.” He turned from the woman, gathering up the keys to the cell. He was insane, this was stupid, but he couldn’t imagine this woman hanging from the end of a rope.

 

  “Sheriff?”

 

  “This wouldn’t be the first time that Ward Grant escaped from jail.” He gave her a lopsided smile and a wink. “Now, go get that wagon, girl.”

 

  She just shook her head and moved towards the door, turning at the last moment.

 

  “I’m Darcy, by the way.” With that she bolted outside and around the back.

 

  Phil stood there for a moment just breathing. He could lose his job for this… he could lose his life. But she had been right, there had been no justice.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, I’ve actually posted something! Yeah, so life got hectic, work and crap, and I’ve just been too tired to write anything. I actually started this a bit ago and finally finished it. I’ve really been in a western mood again, you will most likely see a lot more western aus from me.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


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